


“Pryanichek”

by madscientistS



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Loss of Virginity, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Top Katsuki Yuuri, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 16:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9243407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madscientistS/pseuds/madscientistS
Summary: "Watch him crumble with delight,” or Yuri Katsuki loses his virginity in spectacular fashion after the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona.I spell Viktor with a "K", sorry.





	

After Yuri’s second Grand Prix banquet (luckily all of his clothes stayed on this time) he and Viktor make their way, giggling like idiots, towards their shared hotel room in Barcelona. Their hands fumble with each others jackets, neither making much headway since they both refuse to stop kissing or touching each other. They stumble gracelessly inside, the door slamming behind them a little too loudly as Yuri hurls it shut with an errant elbow. Neither man had drunk more than a few flutes of champagne, but Yuri is drunker than he’s ever felt. He’s high on Viktor’s mouth, his tongue, his hands endlessly running over Yuri’s back and shoulders. Yuri’s skin is burning under Viktor’s touch, and he has moved from resenting the fabric separating him from the skin of Viktor’s fingertips to making a firm decision to set fire to the rest of their clothes and found a nudist colony no matter how cold ice rinks are.

Yuri takes his silver medal, suddenly heavy on his heaving chest, and pulls it, off throwing it over the Russian man’s head. Viktor pauses for a moment, his hands suddenly still on Yuri’s arms. Yuri slowly raises the medal up to Viktor’s mouth, his face reflected in its unmarred surface. The question is asked even if it’s not spoken, and Viktor, with a quirk of his eyebrow, lightly kisses the medal.

 “I’m still planning on kissing something else tonight,” he says afterward

A deep flush creeps up Yuri’s neck, but he holds Viktor’s gaze steadily.

“Viktor” Yuri says laughing softly, _how is this man simultaneously wonderful and ridiculous_? he thinks, and yanks hard on the medal, crashing their mouths together again, teeth clicking and tongues warring . Viktor begins kissing down Yuri’s neck, sucking gently on the smooth skin and humming softly. Yuri feels the vibration go all the way down to his toes, Viktor’s mouth like a direct line to his over-sensitized nervous system. Yuri can already tell he’s going to look like he went three rounds with a very affectionate octopus tomorrow, but he doesn’t care. Despite all of his boyfriend’s lascivious jokes (and how wonderful is that thought? Viktor fucking Nikiforov in all his glory is his boyfriend, nay as Viktor would say his _fiancé_ , Yuri is still slightly bemused at how all of this has come about, and in fact has been pinching himself routinely every morning since the Cup of China, as if to remind himself that this is actually his life) they have not gone much beyond frequent heavy make-out sessions. As if both of them have some unspoken agreement that they aren’t ready, not quite yet, the results of the Grand Prix final looming large in both of their minds.  But tonight that’s over and done with, Yuri’s medal won, even if it isn’t gold, and a hesitant plan to move to St. Petersburg already in motion. Yuri is done waiting. He’s been half hard since he put on the suit Viktor bought him five hours earlier, the expensive silk sliding over his skin, and it had only gotten worse as the night progressed. With Viktor possessively wrapped around him all evening, and sighing morosely whenever they had to part to speak to some sponsor or another.

Yuri is so fucking ready. _Ha, ‘fucking’_ , he thinks to himself, giggling again, almost delirious with the rush of want.

Viktor continues his trail of kisses down Yuri’s chest, unbuttoning his dress shirt and pushing the fabric apart, laving each exposed inch of skin with his tongue and his already bruised lips. Yuri lets himself be guided up against the wall, his head thunking against the plaster. His hands weakly clutching Viktor’s shoulders. He’s panting and lightheaded with need, his brain buzzing, overwhelmed with the feeling of Viktor’s mouth against him, his hands roving over him, his body pinning Yuri to the wall.

Viktor pauses in his descent, laying his head on the jut of Yuri’s hipbone, his cheek flat against the fabric of his gray pants. Yuri can feel the heat of his breath through the thin silk.

Viktor turns, looking up at him through his lashes, his ice-chip blue eyes dark and bottomless and filled with desire, like some irresistible god of sex sent to torment him.

“I’m going to suck you now, Yuri.” He says it like a threat, a demand not a request.

It’s all Yuri can do to stammer “iiiiiiii, daijoubu” as his knees buckle slightly and he slips a few inches down the hotel room wall. Viktor catches him, holding him firmly in place with one strong arm. Viktor slides his hand up the inseam of Yuri’s pants, his hand leaving a burning trail on Yuri’s leg, and slips down the zipper, freeing his hard cock. Yuri shivers momentarily as his aching erection is exposed in the air-conditioned room, a bit of precum leaking out of the tip. Viktor turns and grins up at him.

“No underwear tonight, Radost moya?”

 His lips quirk up in a smile. “I wanted to surprise you,” he stammers out, his already flushed cheeks turning even redder. Viktor stifles a low moan by pressing his lips gently to Yuri’s inner thigh, like a worshipper in supplication to his idol.

“Consider me surprised.” Viktor turns and in one quick motion takes the head of Yuri’s cock into his mouth.

“Nnnnngggh.” The meaningless noise slips out, Viktor’s mouth is so warm and wet. Viktor continues languidly, pulling his mouth back to just the head then licking down his length, over and over again, the base of his cock wrapped firmly in Viktor’s free hand.

Viktor guides one of Yuri’s hands to the back of his head, and that is all the instruction Yuri needs to grip the soft silver strands and tug lightly, eliciting a moan from his partner that shivers around Yuri’s cock. Yuri tugs again, harder this time, and Viktor lets him fuck into his parted lips.

Yuri looks away, afraid if he keeps staring at his cock disappearing into Viktor’s mouth he will come right then and there, and if Yuri still has a rational thought in his head, it is that he doesn’t want this to end, not yet.  Viktor pulls off with an obscene pop, sensing how close Yuri is to tumbling over the edge, and stands up in one fluid motion. Yuri pulls him into a kiss, his hands still tangled in Viktor’s hair. Yuri can taste himself on Viktor’s tongue, bitter and slightly salty, like tears. Viktor turns away from the kiss and whispers into his ear:

“I want you to fuck me. Now.”

Yuri’s whole body releases an involuntary shiver. “I am 100% on board with that plan, Vitya,” he says jokingly, meeting his boyfriend’s eyes.

“But I haven’t done this before… you need to tell me what to do.” Yuri stumbles over the words, trying to push them out before he loses his nerve.

“Of course Yuri,” Viktor replies, his voice dropping even lower, the vowels dripping slowly like honey from his tongue. Yuri has never thought his name could be so sexy.

The next few minutes blur in Yuri’s mind. Their remaining clothes are hastily shed, and Yuri finds himself naked, being pulled down on to their squished-together beds, on top of an equally naked Viktor, still somehow wearing Yuri’s Grand Prix medal.

Viktor has already grabbed a bottle of lube out of his suitcase and a handful of condoms, less from expectation of marathon sex and more from a frenzied lack of coordination to rip off just one. If Yuri had had the ability to think left, he would have tried to immortalize the view in front of him: Viktor spread out like a playgirl centerfold, all toned muscles and snow white skin, the sharp V of his hips leading Yuri’s eyes down to his pink cock, hard and shining, laying up against washboard abs, with his hair mussed like he’d been driving for hours with the top down in the wind, shiny foil packets surrounding him haphazardly like pornographic after-dinner mints. Yuri had never been more turned on in his entire life.

“Like the view?” Viktor asks with a coquettish wink and a wide smile.

“Of course I do, you shameless idiot,” he replies with soft fondness.

“Ooooh, harsh,” Viktor jokes, laughing. “Be careful darling, or I may forget which Yuri I am in bed with.”. 

There’s a pause then, as it starts to occur to Yuri that he’s not quite sure what he should be doing next.

Viktor, sensing his hesitation, hands Yuri the bottle of lube and throws one leg, with all the grace of the champion figure skater he is, over Yuri’s left shoulder, dragging the Japanese man up the bed towards him.

“Start with one finger first”

“I _have_ watched porn, Viktor,” he replies, slapping Viktor’s thigh in admonishment, feeling the skin contract beneath his hand  along with Viktor’s sharp inhale.  Yuri slips one lube-coated finger past the tight ring of muscle, moving slowly until the man beneath him begins to relax, and wonders if he can memorize every plane of muscle in Viktor’s body. He thinks he could, with enough time. After a few minutes, he adds another slick digit.

“Is this okay?” he breathes

“Yesss,” Viktor says shakily, his hips beginning to move restlessly against the sheets, tilting eagerly up towards Yuri’s hand.

“I’m not going to break, Zolotse.”

Yuri turns his face into Viktor’s raised thigh, he nips gently, mouthing along the stretched tendon, inching his way towards the leaking head of his cock. He stops to suck in a section of taught skin, digging in his teeth. Viktor gasps, the noise heading straight to Yuri’s already aching sex. He takes the head of Viktor’s cock into his mouth, adjusting the unfamiliar stretch of his jaw as he sucks on the head. Yuri tries to time his bobbing head and his thrusting fingers. The litany of mindless sounds coming from the man beneath increase in volume as Viktor squirms, hips lifting and shifting against the double assault. Yuri releases Viktor’s length and adds another finger.  He curls his fingers, probing for that wonderful spot. Yuri may be a virgin, but he’s spent countless nights exploring his own body in his darkened room, holding in his moans, trying to keep silent for fear of alerting someone in the hall, or worse--waking a sleeping Phichit.  He knows he’s successful when Viktor keens. Yuri presses again against Viktor’s prostate and smiles at the string of Russian expletives that Viktor half shouts and half moans.

 “Yuri, I’m ready, please luchik”

“Can you come just from this?....from just my fingers inside you?” Yuri asks quietly in a dazed voice, staring transfixed at the sight of his fingers sliding in and out of Viktor’s shiny red hole, lube dripping down his hand and onto the sheets.

Viktor’s whole body shudders and he releases a deep groan.

“Please, please viebi menya, do you want me to beg for you?”

Something begins to rise up in Yuri, his shoulders loosen, warmth rising up his chest, his spine slightly straightening and he begins to slowly run his nails down Viktor’s thigh with his free hand.

He leans back slowly, eyes catching the other man’s lust-blown pupils, and it’s all he can do to keep a wicked smile from taking over his face. But that would spoil the game.

“I think I do, Vitya,” he says seriously instead, his voice deep with his own desire.

“I want you to beg me for it, tell me what you want me to do.”

A flush has spread over the normally alabaster skin, traveling down from Viktor’s exposed throat. Yuri wants to mark him, wants to drag red lines down his chest with his nails, and bite a hundred marks, so that everyone can see who he belongs to. If Yuri were less furiously aroused he might have been embarrassed by his own sudden surge of possessiveness.  

“Tell me Vitya, and don’t forget to ask nicely,” he says with a light kiss to the tip of the other man’s penis.

“Yuri, I need you inside me,” Viktor says immediately, voice desperate.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I feel you in the back of my throat, please darling, I can’t…”  he trails off, babbling in Russian interspersed with a few Japanese expletives, as Yuri adds a fourth finger, striking his prostate again. 

Yuri stretches him a bit longer, scissoring his fingers a few more times, and withdraws his fingers.

Yuri rips a condom open with his teeth, his hands too covered in lube to grasp the slippery foil. He rolls the condom on quickly, carefully pinching the tip, flashing back to a very awkward lesson from Minako involving a banana before he had moved to Detroit.

He places the tip of his penis against Viktor’s ass, using all of his hard-earned muscle control to keep from pistoning his hips into the waiting hole.

“Say it again, Viktor.”

“Please, god, please just fuck me,” Viktor shouts, voice high and needy, and Yuri wonders for a moment just how thick the walls are in this hotel, but a moment is all he can spare for anyone who isn’t the brilliant, panting mess beneath him, begging for his cock.

“Well because you asked so nicely,” he grunts out, before slowly easing into the warm embrace of Viktor’s body. God it is so good, so hot, so tight. Yuri knows he’s babbling in Japanese but he can’t seem to stop the stream of adjectives falling from his lips. He begins to thrust slowly at first, afraid of coming too quickly. He wants to savor this for as long as possible, and show Viktor exactly how far his ‘stamina’ extends. Watching Viktor’s body relax into pleasure around him is probably the most beautiful think Yuri has ever seen. 

He finds a steady rhythm, Viktor’s hips snapping up to meet him. Yuri grabs Viktor’s other thigh, hooking the knee over his shoulder, and his cock slides in an inch further, his balls now slapping against Viktor’s ass with each thrust. Yuri fucks him harder, his control fraying beneath the myriad sensations assaulting him. He speeds up, the deeper angle helping him to hit that little ball of nerves in the Russian man.

Viktor has one hand tangled in the damp sheets, and another clutching Yuri’s back. In a distant corner of his mind Yuri knows his back will be covered in scratches tomorrow, but right now he can barely feel the nails scrabbling against his skin. 

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathes out, and Viktor, because he is an unashamed romantic, comes hard after Yuri’s declaration. White viscous liquid covering both of their chests.

Yuri comes himself a few seconds later, inner muscles convulsing on his aching dick. His vision goes white as he cums and there is a moment when Yuri thinks that if this is how he goes blind it was worth it. When the sparks clear he looks down at the man below him, panting harshly. Viktor’s eyes are glazed and there’s a bit of cum on his chin, he’s a red sweaty mess, miles away from the glittering ice prince Yuri used to idolize. Yuri realizes he was wrong earlier. _This_ is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. And it’s his.

Yuri flops over and lays down next to Viktor, breathing hard. He can feel his cheeks stretching into an impossibly wide grin.

He takes a minute to catch his breath before disentangling himself, with some difficulty, the tired Russian somehow seeming to have grown a few extra limbs. He wets a cloth from the bathroom and grabs a few bottles of sports drink before heading back to the bed. Yuri gently cleans the cum and lube off of them. Viktor’s cock twitching slightly as he rubs the stretched hole. Yuri can’t help himself as he slips a thumb back in. The other man groans,

“I don’t have your stamina Zvezda Moya, we’re going to have to wait a few hours for round two,” Viktor says lightly.

After gulping down the sickly sweet Gatorade, they mutually decide to curl up on the other side of the bed, where the sheets are slightly less filthy. Yuri falls asleep quicker than he intended, the stress of skating and the athletic deflowering finally catching up to him.

 

Yuri wakes slowly, having rearranged in the night so now Viktor’s head is resting on his chest. He idly strokes the soft silver hair. Based on the amount of sunlight streaming in the windows, he knows they will have to get up soon and start packing if they want to make their flight. But Yuri isn’t ready to move just yet.  He stares down at Viktor. _Uggghhh, even his sleepy drool face is appallingly attractive,_ he thinks to himself. He’s just going to lay here a little while longer. He won silver at the Grand Prix Final, and he fucked Viktor Nikiforov last night, he thinks he’s earned a few minutes to be smug.

 

 

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so please be gentle (well not too gentle, lol). Also shout out to Cafecliche and K, who betaed this for me and put up with all my YoI crazy.


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